Three guys walk into a bar. Four hours later, they leave. But those four hours can be the longest of a bartender’s life.
One gets gin, one gets vodka, one’s keeping it light with a Stella but about an hour and a half from now he’ll get a chilled shot of Patron Silver and I’m already laughing at the hangover he’s going to have in the morning. Didn’t you ever hear the phrase about beer before liquor? You’re going to be sicker.
But before any of them get sick, they’ll get drunk. Real drunk.
Drunk enough to invite me to the hotel bar across the street when I’m off and either you guys are going to draw straws or you’re collectively planning a gang bang and if I don’t want to leave with one of you I sure as hell don’t want to leave with all of you. I may drink boxed wine from time to time but come on, I have standards.
They’ll get drunk enough to slip me hotel room key cards despite the fact that just an hour before you were telling me all about your wife Shannon and how lucky you are to have such a chill chick who’s down for anything but I’m not sure if anyone’s that chill, certainly not Shannon. Be careful with that keycard. I’m far more likely to charge all of my drinks to your room than get within a 50 foot radius of it and if you think the hotel bartenders are on your side you’re kidding yourself. You have bro code but we have something better.
You’ll get so drunk that your words will start blurring together in a cacophonous symphony of inebriation and no one in this bar is singing along to that tune. You’re a jukebox of would you rather and have you ever and what are your plans later tonight and to be perfectly honest I have a bottle of Cabernet to finish and a cat to feed and if I don’t feed her before 11:00 she starts looking around for things to pee on. I’ve got a load of laundry to put away and I’m working my way through all nine seasons of The Office for the fourth time so I really don’t have time for your nonsense. I’ve got big plans for tonight and if you’re the reason my cat pees on the jacket I left on the edge of my bed then we’re going to have a problem, you and I.
You’ll get so drunk that you’ll forget you have a daughter my age either that or you simply don’t care but whatever the reason I’m not into that and have you even thought through how awkward Thanksgiving Dinner would become?
And the clock will tick closer to closing time and I’ll rattle off last calls and you’ll take a 100 dollar bill out of your back pocket and slam it down on the bar and tell me it’s all mine if I stay open another hour and I’m just going to laugh in your face because only a fool tries to buy off a woman like really? That jacket that my cat is about to pee on cost $84.00 so I’m not even making a profit here. Plus it’s already going to take me thirty minutes to wash and polish the 14 beer mugs, 9 shot glasses, 23 pint glasses, 3 martini glasses, and all the wine glasses I’ve completely lost count of and I just broke one in the sink so that’s an extra five minutes of scraping shards of glass off the stainless steel surface. So no.
Plus if I accept your offer I’m just condoning your bad behavior and teaching you that you can buy your way through anything and I just can’t let you do that. Half of my job is serving and the other half of it is trying to teach all of you how to be human beings which I don’t even get paid for but I consider it community service so I’m more than willing to donate some time to the cause.
And as I walk by your bar stool you’ll go for the standard ass grab like I’m some Viking Broad working in a beer hall like this isn’t hooters my ass cheeks are carefully concealed behind a pair of baggy black slacks because they don’t want to be acknowledged. But because I’m always prepared for men to start drinking and exhibit severely uncivilized cavemen-like behaviors I’ll dodge your hand and save both of us the awkward moment that is guaranteed to ensue. Awkward for you, that is. Because at the end of my night I’m looking for any opportunity to unleash the pent up frustration that has been building up inside of me for the last five hours of my shift I don’t have all these tattoos and piercings because I’m cute and cuddly. So grab away. But be prepared for the potential repercussions of your wandering hands i.e. I’ll take that pretty little face of yours and make certain that it gets intimately acquainted with the hardwood surface of the bar. You get off on grabbing my ass? Well, I get off on making you pay for it. And sweetie, it’ll cost way more than a 100 dollar bill. So I hope you can cash that check you’re about to write. Otherwise, keep your hand where it belongs…wrapped around your shot of tequila, not wrapped around me.